


Of Blood and Kisses

by Celyan



Series: MCU Kink Bingo 2018 [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Chris is a vampire, Chris is a vampire after all, Hints of dub-con maybe, M/M, Tom is human
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-05 13:03:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15171335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celyan/pseuds/Celyan
Summary: Tom does not believe in vampires.——The vampire walks towards him, slow and purposeful, and Tom backs away against a conveniently located wall of a building that has spat out its diligent workers hours ago, only to be left cold and dark and empty just for them. He keeps his eyes trained on the vampire even when one of his hands comes up to touch the side of his neck, finding the two tiny puncture marks that are his souvenirs from that fateful evening two weeks ago.





	Of Blood and Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> This is again written for the MCU Kink Bingo 2018 for the Character is a Vampire square. I had never written a vampire fic in my life prior to starting this one, and I have to admit that I struggled a little with writing the parts where the bites are described. I hope that my take on the vampire trope is not a disappointment, though. 
> 
> This is also my second Hiddlesworth fic (the first one is still unfinished but will be finished hopefully soon) and the first one I'm posting, so, hi everybody. x'D

Tom does not believe in vampires. Absolutely not, no sir, not in a million years.

So when one suddenly appears in front of him he blinks and tilts his head and asks, in complete seriousness, whether there is a masquerade held somewhere close by.

And the vampire? He laughs, the bastard, and simply pushes Tom against the wall and tells him, in no uncertain terms, that he is amusing as well as beautiful and that he would greatly enjoy the chase.

He does not believe in vampires, Tom thinks even when those sharp teeth sink into the skin of his neck and the vampire gets the first taste of his blood, and there is a strange sort of desperation running through his mind that does not bode well for his immediate future.

*

The second time Tom sees the vampire he is as woefully unprepared as he was the first time. He would like to imagine the vampire being surprised by it, but, well, he has never been one to willfully impose his beliefs on someone else.

Not even when that someone else is clearly stalking him.

”Oh,” he says, mind curiously dull, ”it’s you. Again.”

”Yes, it’s me,” the vampire echoes, visibly amused. ”Again.” He pauses deliberately and looks at Tom, up and down, not bothering to hide the way his eyes keep sizing him up from top to bottom. It is as if he wants to make Tom uncomfortable on purpose...

Tom fights a flush of discomfort that is threatening to spread over every inch of skin not covered by clothing and clears his throat. The vampire appears to be taking his sweet time in ogling him, so Tom feels justified in looking at him in return. He is tall, taller than Tom himself (something he discovered during their previous meeting) and has the kind of muscles that Tom can only dream of achieving, and his neatly trimmed beard shines as darkly golden as the hair curling around his strong jaw. He is, simply put, terrifying and beautiful, and Tom instinctively knows that nothing he says or does can change the course of the evening for him.

”Like what you see?” the vampire eventually grins and has the nerve to wink at him.

”Not particularly, no,” Tom says bluntly, though of course he cannot deny the vampire’s attractiveness. He does have eyes, after all, but he sees no reason to say that out loud. Not to him, in any case, not when he has a very bad feeling about where this encounter is headed.

He wishes to be wrong, but knows not to be a fool. Well, he hopes he does, in any case.

”Oh?” the vampire raises an eyebrow, a small smile playing on his lips. ”I must confess, I am disappointed in your ability to lie,” he says conversationally. ”It is so very... bad. But no matter, I may yet to be able to help you with that. In the mean time, though, shall we move forward?”

”Please,” Tom says, voice dry, and tries to be subtle with the way he scans the empty streets around them for someone, anyone, who could come to his aid. Not surprisingly, there is no one, and Tom cannot but conclude that great care has been taken in choosing this particular location as their meeting point. He wonders whether he should be impressed or alarmed, or possibly both.

Make that definitely both, with a heavy emphasis on alarmed.

The vampire walks towards him, slow and purposeful, and Tom backs away against a conveniently located wall of a building that has spat out its diligent workers hours ago, only to be left cold and dark and empty just for them. He keeps his eyes trained on the vampire even when one of his hands comes up to touch the side of his neck, finding the two tiny puncture marks that are his souvenirs from that fateful evening two weeks ago.

The touch is light and gentle, different from what Tom had expected, and the expression on the vampire’s face is, oddly, not as dangerous as it surely should have been. Tom holds his breath, keenly aware of the strong body pressing upon him and holding him steady, and tenses when the touch transforms into an intimate hold on the back of his neck, a thumb gently caressing the line of his jaw.

All the better to hold him still for another bite, Tom thinks, far more rational than he knows that he should be, and braces himself for what is to come.

The bite, while painful, is nothing like the books he has consulted during those two weeks have led him to believe. His memories from the first time are a blur, a confusing mess of distorted images and random words all swirling around his brain in forms that fail to mean anything in any context he tries to apply to them, so of course he has turned to books to make sense of what has happened to him. Now, though, he finds that there are sensations running through him that he has not been able to prepare for, unexpected flashes of feelings (whether his or the vampire’s is anyone’s guess), and incomplete thoughts teasing the edges of his consciousness enough to cause him to whimper in confusion.

It is over sooner than Tom expects, and he blinks, dazed, at the undeniably fond look on the vampire’s face. The hand on his neck keeps him grounded, somehow, and the way the vampire licks his lips, the hint of his still extended fangs flashing white in the dim glow of the street lights, is enough to make Tom shiver and tighten his grip on the vampire’s shirt. And when did that happen; when, exactly, did he start returning the vampire’s touches? Tom has no idea, but he would very much like for it to stop. Preferably yesterday.

The vampire regards him for a long moment and then kisses him full on the lips. Not having expected that, Tom gasps at the taste of his own blood, and the tongue slipping into his mouth surprises him less than the initial kiss did. In fact, it feels almost natural, the way the vampire explores him in infinite slowness, as if he has all the time in the world for it. The irony is not lost on Tom, but neither is his eventual need to breathe on the vampire, and when he pulls back Tom is left panting, one hand slowly coming up to cover his lips while he stares at the vampire and is suddenly reminded of a snake he saw at the zoo when he was younger, all regal and beautiful and dangerous.

The vampire looks at him and smiles and doesn’t let go of him. Why isn’t he letting go? Tom opens his mouth to ask, but... well, he is not sure if he really wants to know, so he takes a deep breath and decides that asking a random question is as good a distraction as any.

For example, getting a name would be nice. Just so that he would know who has just bitten and kissed him. Tom is not of the habit of going around kissing strangers, but perhaps the vampire is? He does look the part, in any case.

“Something on your mind?” breaks him from his thoughts and Tom realises that they have been standing there just staring at one another for some time. So the vampire is teasing him? Now that is not very polite. He frowns and makes an effort to untangle his fingers from the fabric of the vampire’s shirt, which is made all that more difficult by the realisation that they are actually trembling.

The vampire notices it and covers his hand with his bigger one, which is as unfair as everything else that has been happening to him lately, so Tom just ignores it and moves on.

“You could,” he says, voice shaking ever so slightly, ”at least tell me your name, you know? It would only be fair, seeing as you don’t seem to be leaving me alone anytime soon.”

”My name, dearest Thomas, is Chris,” the vampire says and kisses him again, and that is enough for Tom to lose whatever threads of consciousness he has been clinging on to so far. Unceremoniously he faints, right into Chris’s arms.

*

When Tom comes to, slow and mind all fuzzy, as if his brain is stuffed full with cotton candy — and isn’t that a strange image to have in one’s mind, he thinks to himself — he finds himself in his own home, in his own bed and still in the clothes he had been wearing when he had met the vampire again. Chris, his brain is quick to correct him, and he blinks as he tries to make sense of his muddled memories.

Had there been a kiss...? No, there had definitely been two kisses as well as a surprising amount of touching unrelated to the bite that had certainly also happened, this time on the opposite side of his neck. _Great_ , Tom thinks, utterly unimpressed, _I now have a matching set._

He brings a hand to touch the new bite marks, slow and careful, and winces a little at how even the tiniest amount of pressure makes them throb. He wonders if it’s because they are on the other side of his neck now, or if it’s because Chris has been rougher this time. Do vampires even have a preference when it comes to the side of a victim’s neck that they bite? He should remember to ask Chris the next time he sees him.

Or perhaps not. Tom still wishes that these two encounters have been isolated incidents, that Chris has merely happened to be there by a coincidence of some sort, that he isn’t so much stalking him than just ending up in the same area by accident. He wishes, but deep in his heart he knows that it just isn’t so.

He sighs and contemplates on getting out of bed. It’s Saturday, still bright and early if the sunlight streaming through the half closed curtains of his bedroom window is anything to go by, and there is nothing that he absolutely needs to be doing right now. He can have a lie in if he so wishes, no one is going to come and bother him now, and if he does not want to think about Chris any longer then well, sleep would be the reasonable thing to do, now would it not? Mind made up, Tom pulls the covers over his body and falls asleep to scattered thoughts of blood and kisses.

  
*

The third time it happens, it is late and Tom is home alone, sitting on the couch with his legs curled underneath his thighs and his right elbow propped up against the armrest, absorbed as he is in the book that he is reading. There is a half filled cup of cooling tea by the low table next to the couch, Earl Grey with a hint of lemon, fragnant and familiar in a way that has always been a comfort for Tom. It is his third cup of the evening, he is taking his time savouring it and enjoying the way it pairs with his chosen book so well, so he is not pleased with the way his concentration is broken by the noises at the front door.

Reluctantly, Tom looks up from his book and sees Chris standing there by the shadows of the doorway, dark and golden and imposing, and his breath catches in his throat at the vampire’s sheer presence. For a moment, Tom can only look at Chris and wonder, _why me?_

Well, at least his wounds have had time to heal, the tiny matching pinpricks on both sides of his neck now only visible in certain kind of light or if he tilts his head just so. There is something to be said about a vampire who knows just how much blood he can take without causing too much trouble for his victims, though if Tom was to say it all aloud right now he’s sure Chris would not be so appreciative. He has been told that he can be quite, ah, biting with his words, himself.

”Why are you here?” Tom asks instead, voice a mix of annoyance and resignation as he marks his page on the book and puts it down next to the tea cup. He won’t be able to finish it before it grows cold, now, and he laments the fact for wasting perfectly good tea is never okay in his books. “Apart from the obvious, that is.”

Chris smirks at him and comes to sit down next to him, close enough that their thighs touch. Tom is not sure what he should think about that, so he holds his tongue and waits. For now, anyway.

“Did you miss me?” Chris asks, almost purrs, and there is a hand on his thigh now, the touch surprisingly gentle. Tom blinks and looks down at the hand and then up at Chris, one of his eyebrows rising in clear disbelief.

“You wish,” he replies, his voice as cool as he can manage.

Chris just smiles at that. “No,” he corrects Tom, not unkindly, “I know.” The way he says it, there is no way for Tom to try and deny it, so he does not even bother, just sighs and lets it go. He has been thinking about Chris lately, after all, that part is true at least.

“So... is this a social visit, then?” he inquires, curious.

Chris’s smile widens. “You could say that,” he nods, and the hand on his thigh gives him a quick squeeze.

Tom takes in a small breath. “How did you know where I live?” he asks, something that has been bothering him since their second meeting. “Have you been following me or...?” He tries to keep his voice light, as if it is just idle curiosity, but he has a feeling that Chris can see right through him.

“What would you do if I said yes?” Chris asks instead of giving him a straight answer, and Tom would feel more annoyed had he not already expected it. As it happens he has, so he simply sighs and gives a delicate shrug. “I would ask you to please leave me alone, but I suppose we both know just how effective that would be,” he replies.

Chris tilts his head to the side and looks at him curiously. “Would you really want that?” He pauses and his gaze flicks down to Tom’s neck, zeroing in on where his pulse is, and Tom swallows, throat suddenly dry. He is certainly not looking forward to that part of the visit, even if Chris has not taken too much of his blood, before, and has given him ample time to rest and recuperate in between their meetings. He is considerate that way, it would seem.

“Yes,” he says and prays that the myth about vampires being able to read minds is false, “I would.”

Chris leans closer to him and places a kiss on his neck, just one, and then pulls back again to look at him. Tom has no time to react before Chris brings his free hand to his face, cupping his neck in that now familiar gesture, and leans in for a proper kiss. His lips are cool and dry and surprisingly pleasant against Tom’s, his tongue not unlike other tongues that he has tangled with in his life, and the kiss, it really isn’t that bad.

Still, Tom had not expected it. Sure, he did expect to be kissed again, but only after Chris had drank his blood, as an afterthought of sorts, not like this. Not as if the kiss is somehow the reason why the vampire is here, his blood merely a pleasant addition to be collected once he has gotten what he has wanted from him.

He does not kiss Chris back, but he does not try to resist and push him away, either. Later, he would blame it on being surprised and unsure of what to do in such a situation, perhaps even pointing out how dangerous resisting a vampire could be (never mind that Chris has been perfectly reasonable so far, even taking him back home after he had so ungraciously fainted on him the previous time), but right now he just goes with it, lets Chris dominate his mouth and take what he wants from him.

What he wants turns out to be several kisses, enough for Tom to lose his count at some point, which may or may not also be the point where he starts to kiss back, timid but still an active participant, now, instead of a mere human doll. He will deny it to Chris’s face should the vampire ever mention it afterwards, that he swears, but mercifully Chris just moves his kisses down to his neck when he grows impatient for his blood.

Tom gasps at the expected feeling of fangs piercing his skin for he has not yet gotten used to it, and Chris makes sure to keep it light, teasing even; he takes small slow sips, unhurriedly enjoying it all, and Tom can feel his mind slip into that confusing space where everything is spinning and his thoughts mix and match freely, except that whatever they become makes no sense whatsoever even to Tom himself, and he is left reeling, wondering if Chris’s fangs are somehow influencing his mind, now.

Eventually, Chris retreats his fangs and licks his neck to catch any stray drops of blood that may have escaped him. Tom makes a soft noise at that, causing Chris to smile and peck his lips before finally pulling away from him. The hand on his thigh is still there but it soon retreats as well, leaving a cold patch on its wake. Tom blinks and blinks, the familiar feeling of dizziness taking over his mind like a tidal wave, and finds that all of his words have suddenly abandoned him.

“Enjoy your book,” Chris smiles at him and, after a final touch on his cheekbone, leaves as quietly as he arrived. Tom stares at the door long after it has closed and thinks, desperation mixed with worry, _I should not have done that._

*

The fourth time finds Tom asleep in his bed, unaware of what is about to happen. He isn’t wearing much in the way of sleeping clothes, just an old t-shirt that is too big for him and a pair of superhero boxers his youngest sister gave him for Christmas. He wakes up to find himself spooned by Chris’s bigger body, all snug and warm and like he _belongs_ there and really, he has got to stop being so trusting of things like locks on the doors and time that has gone by and given him a false sense of security because _of course_ Chris would be back to torment him again.

Chris gives a soft chuckle, as if he can hear his thoughts, and Tom tenses against his chest. ”Good morning, sweetheart,” he says against Tom’s neck, lips cool on his skin, and Tom squints at the clock on the bedside table to find that it reads 3:55 AM.

Ignoring the ridiculous pet name, Tom frowns and squirms to test the hold of the arms around his body. ”Why are you here again?” he wants to ask, but it somehow comes out as, ”Where have you been for the past five weeks?” and he really, really ought to just keep his mouth shut when he has been woken up in the middle of the night by an annoying vampire who has no concept of personal space.

”I missed you too,” Chris says and Tom can feel his smile against his skin. He blushes but does his best to appear unaffected. ”Stop that,” he hisses and hopes that for once, Chris would do as he was told and make everything easier for them both. ”Just do it, it’s what you came here for,” he then adds, wanting to get it over with so that he can go back to sleep again.

”If you insist,” is all the warning he gets before sharp fangs sink into his neck again. Tom’s lips part in a voiceless gasp and he holds onto the arms around his torso, fingers digging into firm muscles, and breathes through the haze of pain and pleasure that originates from where the fangs connect to his skin and envelopes him in a strange heat reminiscent of a hot and sticky summer’s day.

It was not like that the last time Chris did this, he finds himself thinking, dizzy and confused, and nothing has ever felt more real to him than the weight of the vampire’s thigh making its way between his thighs, the large palm pressing against his stomach and the feeling of being surrounded by everything that is Chris only accentuating the dreamlike atmosphere in the dimness of his bedroom. Had he not gone through this three times already, Tom could surely be persuaded to take it as nothing but a strangely realistic dream. Yet he has, and so he knows that whatever is going on is really happening to him, and it means that come morning, he does need to give it some serious thought.

”Go back to sleep, Tom,” Chris whispers into his ear when it’s all over, ”I’ll be here for you.” A kiss is pressed on the side of his mouth and Tom wants to protest, to say something to Chris, to demand for the vampire to stop tormenting him so, but before his thoughts have had time to form into words he is out cold, dreams stealing reality from beneath his fingertips like it’s nothing but wisps of smoke.

*

The fifth time goes on much the same way as the third one had. The only difference is that this time, Tom’s tea is flavoured with jasmine instead of the lemon he often favours, and Chris kisses him without preamble, as if he has been desperate to reach Tom and cannot wait a minute longer to touch him again.

Maybe he has, Tom can never tell with Chris.

Tom kisses Chris back, soft against his passion, and it turns into their best kiss yet. Chris’s smile is gentle when he pulls back and rests his forehead against Tom’s, and this time he stays almost until sunrise.

*

Tom stops counting after the tenth time. He has grown used to the way Chris always appears when he least expects him, the irregularity of it making it almost a regular occurrence, and he figures that this is just what his life is now, kisses and all.

He cannot in clear conscience claim that he minds, anymore, for he has to admit that he has begun to anticipate these encounters as well. He likes having someone to kiss and touch and yes, even the giving of his blood to a vampire part no longer bothers him the way it used to.

Besides, Chris loves cuddling as much as he does, which is always a plus.

*

“Chris,” Tom murmurs, muffled against the vampire’s chest, enjoying the fingers that are running through his hair. “How’d you find me again, after the first time?”

They are both naked under the covers, sticky with cooling sweat and certain other bodily fluids, and pleasantly sleepy. Well, at least Tom is, though it’s barely midnight and so Chris is probably just enjoying the peace and quiet of Tom’s bedroom as well as their closeness.

Chris chuckles lightly, the vibrations almost ticklish against Tom’s skin, and Tom huffs out a laugh of his own at the strange feeling. “I was stalking you,” he admits and his voice is filled with mirth. “I followed you home and then just... kept doing it until I learned your schedule.”

Tom raises his head slightly and tries to look disapproving. “I knew it,” he says and pokes Chris on the chest. “You do realise that stalking is not the way to approach a potential partner, don’t you?”

Chris shrugs, then grins. “It worked on you.”

Tom snorts. “For now. I may yet change my mind about this,” he says, but they both know that those words carry no real threat. No, Tom is just as invested in this as Chris is, if not more. The intensity of their relationship no longer frightens him, but instead fills him with excitement and joy for having found that someone he wants to share his life with.

For whatever it is that they have, Tom is more than willing to see it through.


End file.
